


Mousesack's Educational Retreat for Proper Young Nobles

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Cultural Differences, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: 13 year old Calanthe gets sent to a “whip-your-heirs-into-shape” 6 weeks and she is not happy about it. She’s also not delighted by this kid Eist, who is determined to become her friend, and sharing her room with 2 other noblewomen was not fun.Featuring 13 year olds’ interpretations of cultures, some significant cultural misunderstandings, and some slow but sure developing friendships.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Eist Tuirsach, Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Mousesack's Educational Retreat for Proper Young Nobles

The first time Calanthe met Eist, she was 13 and her father sent her to a “retreat” that was really just a “whip-your-heir-into-shape” camp – as if Calanthe wasn’t perfectly capable as she was. So what if her father expected to marry her off to the highest bidder before she turned 15? So what if her husband would automatically rule Cintra? Calanthe refused to bow to idiotic laws based on the ridiculous idea that women weren’t just as strong as men. Calanthe was stronger than  _ many _ men, and she worked hard to stay that way.

Her daily routine was precisely designed to provide her with all the skills needed to rule. She’d had to build most of it herself, because her mother’s proposed curriculum had been unacceptable. Calanthe didn’t care about etiquette – she was going to be Queen! She needed to be able to  _ fight,  _ not use the right fork for the right dish.

That was how Calanthe had ended up here, at this stupid camp. Apparently, scaring your etiquette teacher shitless by drawing a knife during tea ceremony was “unladylike” and “a potential diplomatic disaster”. Personally, Calanthe thought the fucker hadn’t been scared enough. He had tried to tell her that she wasn’t allowed to wear pants! How absurd was that? What did gender have to do with pants? Everyone in Cintra wore pants – they were practical! But the etiquette teacher – she’d never actually caught his name, though he’d been here for 7 months – was from the “finest Redanian stock”, and would therefore teach her how to be “a proper lady” in the North, where apparently they got uppity over forks and pants.

Calanthe didn’t give a shit what he taught. Cintra was practically the North anyway. If the other kingdoms had a problem with her, they could tell her to her face.

Incidentally, her mother had cited that exact statement when forcing Calanthe into the carriage that took her to this ridiculous camp. It was located in a large manor house along the northern coast of Cidaris. Calanthe hadn’t yet explored the manor itself, but she’d made a beeline for the coast and discovered that while the manor backed up to the ocean, sheer cliff faces made getting to the water extremely difficult. However, Calanthe was not to be deterred and she had ventured further along the coast until she’d finally found a path down to a beach with pristine white sand. 

It was completely deserted; so different from Cintra, where the beach would already be crowded, even this early in the morning. No matter – privacy was better anyway. Calanthe always started her day with a quick swim to wake up and loosen her muscles. If she ever skipped a day, she usually found herself nodding off during her first lesson of the day – and Calanthe’s first tutor was her warfare instructor. She didn’t enjoy the class as much as the practical sparring in the afternoon, but it was interesting. Calanthe liked studying successful war campaigns and determining what the winning factor was. Once she was in charge, she would be making some changes to Cintra’s policies to align with her studies.

But she was getting ahead of herself. Before she would even have the chance to rule, Calanthe had to survive this stupid obedience camp and convince her mother that she was “a proper princess”. Which meant Calanthe needed her morning swim or she’d likely start off the camp sleeping through their introductions. Which wouldn’t exactly be a loss, but she believed in being prepared, and that meant she had to know who she would be dealing with for the next six weeks.

Calanthe glanced at the sun rising over the horizon and forced her mind to focus on the task at hand. She wouldn’t have long before she needed to find her way back to the manor, and she intended to spend that time swimming. Removing her outer clothes, Calanthe rolled her neck and her shoulders and strode towards the surf. 

Suddenly, she heard a shout and she felt someone collide with her side, pushing them both away from the water. She was losing her patience with this place and its insistance on keeping her from the one part of her daily ritual this camp hadn’t already ruined. “What the fuck is your problem!?” Calanthe shouted, shoving the other person away and backing up into a defensive position, ready for a fight.

Then she actually took a look at her attacker and had to struggle to keep a straight face. The boy – for he was certainly no more than her age, though he was tall already – had wild brown hair and a patchy mustache, and more interestingly, he was wearing some kind of plaid skirt with a weird pouch in the front. He was also wearing bright plaid knee-high socks. The skirt she could understand – if places like Redania didn’t let women wear pants, maybe other places made their men wear skirts – but the awful socks did nothing to hide how knobby and gangly the boy’s legs were. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Calanthe blurted out in a way that her mother would consider vindication for why she needed diplomatic training. 

The boy crossed his arms. “I am wearing the traditional garb of Skellige,” he said with a haughty voice, but abruptly dropped it to fling his arms to the side as he half-yelled, “what were you thinking, going into the water? Do you want to die!?”

Calanthe drew back, startled. “I’m not a child – I am perfectly capable of swimming!”

_ “Swimming!?”  _ His voice cracked partway through his exclamation and his cheeks grew pink. He cleared his throat and continued, “Why would you swim out here!? You wouldn’t last 10 minutes before you went cold and numb and drowned!”

Calanthe’s brow furrowed. Now she was totally lost. “It’s the ocean.” She enunciated carefully, in case he had trouble understanding. “It’s not cold.”

If he looked at her like she was an idiot one more time, he was going to lose his head. “Not – not –” he flailed around, apparently unable to form words. Just as she was about to punch him, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, clearly we aren’t understanding each other. I don’t know where you’re from, but it must be  _ very  _ different. This is Cidaris. The ocean here is just as cold as it is at home! It is definitely too cold to swim in! How even – how can you swim in the ocean where you’re from?”

Calanthe scoffed. “I’ve lived next to the ocean my whole life,” she declared. “And sure, it can get cold, but not  _ that _ cold.”

He frowned at her, crossing his arms again. “Fine, if you don’t believe me, try it. Go ahead, stick your foot in the water. Then you’ll understand.”

Calanthe turned, nose in the air, happy to prove this fool wrong. She strode forward, until her toes touched the water.

Only that couldn’t be the water, because it was like ice and it burned at her feet. She jumped back with a wild yelp. “What the fuck? What is wrong with the ocean here?!”

“Told you,” the boy shrugged. “It’s cold up here. Is it not where you’re from?”

Calanthe huffed, feeling foolish and betrayed. She’d swam in the ocean her whole life. How could it change on her like this!? “Cintra is tropical. It’s hot  _ all _ the time. Not like this stupid place.” It looked like she wouldn’t be getting her morning swim after all. “Fuck, I hate it here.”

“Isn’t today the first day?”

“And it’s already a fucking nightmare.” Calanthe groused and started putting the layers of her clothing back on. She’d brought the formal outfit she’d be wearing for the introductions, because she’d hoped to go straight from the beach to the event. She’d specifically packed clothing she could put on without servants just for that reason. All for nothing.

“Right, uh, well – I’m Eist, by the way.” He offered his arm to her and she looked at him in bafflement.

“Princess Calanthe of Cintra,” she nodded formally, to the exact degree that stupid etiquette teacher had drilled into her was appropriate for a foreigner of equal rank. She didn’t know what Eist’s rank was, but it was safer to assume higher than lower. And Calanthe had forgotten what the nod to those lower than her was. She still didn’t see why she should bother to nod to those lower than her.

Eist flexed his hand in the space between them before slowly closing his fist. “Okay, um, I guess we should head back?”

If he was asking permission, maybe he  _ was  _ lower ranked. Well, she’d find out during the introductions. No need to waste more of her attention on him now. She put her crown into place and then tucked her bag under her skirts. Calanthe honestly didn’t mind wearing skirts as often as pants, but she had threatened her tutor because it was a matter of principle. Besides, pants were more convenient. Though she did love the way she could hide so many things within the layers of her skirts. The layers also gave her a personal space perimeter that she desperately needed if she was to be meeting all these new people today. People irritated her too much to let them get close. It would probably be best if she didn’t get into a fight on her first day.

Calanthe strode back up the trail to the manor house, Eist trailing a few steps behind her and nearly tripping over his feet every half dozen steps. She was surprised to feel the corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement at the sight. She supposed she did owe Eist something – if she had run into the surf the way she had intended, she would have been in for a very rude awakening, though she doubted it would actually kill her. Too much heat could do that, but cold? That was silly.

Nonetheless, he clearly believed it. And she would have spent the entire day sour and angry if she’d dipped any more of her than her toes in that freezing water. Calanthe did not like owing anyone, but she paid her debts. “Thank you,” she grit out, her voice quiet. 

“Oh,” Eist stopped to stare at her and narrowly avoided falling face first into dirt. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I swear I wasn’t always so clumsy! I’m so tired of growing pains.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I’m just glad I reached you in time. When I saw someone headed for the water without a boat, I thought I was imagining it at first!”

Calanthe frowned. “So you do have boats, but you can’t swim? That makes no sense! What if you capsize?” 

“You try really, really hard not to,” he shrugged. “At that point, you’re already in trouble, I’d think. I haven’t been allowed to sail on my own yet.”

“I thought only fishermen learned to sail?” 

Eist stared at her in confusion. “Well, how would everyone else get around, then? Skellige is made up of islands.”

Calanthe shrugged. “We just use carriages. But I guess that wouldn’t work for you, if the water is really so cold.”

“I can’t believe there’s somewhere where the water isn’t cold!” Eist said.

“Not just the water,” she rubbed her hands up her arms. Even though the sun was steadily rising now, it was still a bit chilly for her. “The climate too. It’s definitely better than here.”

“Yeah, it is kind of warm here, isn’t it?” Eist walked forward several steps before he realized she had stopped to stare at him. “What?”

Calanthe shook her hand. “The Skellige Islands must be very strange.” She bit her lip, “but I think I would like visiting, just to see if it’s all true.”

Eist laughed, loud and boisterous. Calanthe liked the sound – it reminded her of the way she and her father used to laugh when they sparred together. She hadn’t realized how much she missed that sound, and Eist’s laugh made her want to laugh too. She forced it down, but a smile still pulled at her lips.

“Well, I definitely want to see Cintra!” He said. “If the rest of your people are anything like you, I have to go there.”

Calanthe blinked. “Thanks? I think.” Usually when someone started a sentence with “people like you”, it was not complimentary. She had always been too loud, too brash, too  _ everything  _ for her mother’s etiquette rules.

Eist grinned. They’d finally reached the manor, so they walked together through the front door and found the entryway crowded by six people all dressed in their courtly best. Eist in his garish skirt and socks definitely stood out. She noticed him realize that at the same moment and he seemed to shrink back slightly. 

Well, that just wouldn’t do. Before she could draw attention to herself, a man with wavy dark hair and a full bushy beard cleared his throat. “As I was saying, welcome to the Educational Retreat for Proper Young Nobles.” He scowled at Calanthe and Eist, and Calanthe glared right back until he looked away first. Her victorious smirk was perhaps a bit much for such a small triumph, but the way her day had been going thus far, she would take the win. “I am Mousesack, and I shall be your instructor for the duration of this retreat. You have been sent here by your families to prepare you for life in Court. During our six weeks together, I will instruct you in the schooling you will need to succeed. I will tutor you in the proper etiquette expected of your station, and I will teach you to navigate politics and diplomacy.”

Calanthe glanced around the room. Everyone was wearing their courtly poker faces, so she couldn’t tell if anyone else hated this as much as she did. Beside her, Eist nudged her side gently to call her to attention. Apparently Mousesack had decided that she should go first for introductions. She forced a court-perfect smile and nodded her head to her companions. “I am Princess Calanthe of Cintra.”

Next to her, Eist fidgeted with his arms again. “Eist of Clan Tuirseach, from the Skellige Islands. It’s an honor meeting you all.”

The next to go was a girl wearing an elaborate red dress with lots of lace. Her brown hair cascaded down her back, but her face was partially hidden behind the lace veil on her hat. “My name is Kalis, Daughter of the Governor of Spalla.” Her voice was irritating for some reason Calanthe couldn’t name, but it set her teeth on edge.

“Leon Pankratz,” a dark haired boy bowed elaborately to them. He had something that was trying to be a mustache on his upper lip, but it was failing badly. “Heir and oldest son of the Viscount de Lettenhove in Kerack.” He spoke down his nose at them in a way that immediately annoyed Calanthe. Was everyone here going to be insufferable?

The final attendee was a skinny young girl with white blond hair twisted into a long braid. “Princess Adda of Temeria,” she curtsied. Her voice was timid and quiet, and her shoulders hunched in on herself.

“Wonderful,” Mousesack clapped, drawing all of their attention back to them. “You will each be sharing a room with the others of your gender. Your bags will be waiting for you when we end today. Until then, let us proceed with our first lesson – table manners around the continent. If you’ll follow me,” He led them to a dining hall, the table already set for six. Calanthe sighed and took a seat. If she was going to be lectured on etiquette, they damn well better be serving a good breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> I am pulling all of the cultural stuff out of my ass, okay? These kingdoms also would probably not have that variable of climates when they’re all around the same latitude, but you know what? Fantasy. AKA I really like exploring cultural differences and miscommunication.


End file.
